I Swear I Didn’t Mean to Start a Jungle

Hi, my name is Ashley and I have a plant problem. Like… a 160 plants in six months kind of problem.

And not normal plants. Not “$12 pothos at Home Depot” plants. No. I collect stupidly expensive, dramatic, high-maintenance rare plants that act like they’re on life support if the humidity drops by 2%.The kind that come with Latin names, attitude, and emotional damage.

Nick usually doesn’t say much — he just walks past my ever-expanding jungle like, “Yep. That’s… more leaves. ”As if a whole new species didn’t appear on the shelf overnight.

But listen. The last time he told me “no more plants”…he didn’t know I already had THIRTY on the way. THIRTY. Scheduled. Shipped. Scanned. En route to my doorstep. Because he went out of town and left me unsupervised with Wi-Fi, caffeine, 72 hours unsupervised, and plant auctions. Honestly, what did he think was going to happen? He knows who he’s dating.

What was I supposed to do?

Be responsible?

Practice self-control?

Sit there, unaffected, while an Alocasia Pink Something Rare popped up with “Only 1 left” on the listing?

Not click “Buy Now” on a variegated something-something I absolutely did NOT need(but spiritually required)?

Exactly. Impossible.

So now I’m sitting here, surrounded by my botanical crimes, pretending they’ve “always been here,” like:“ Oh that? That’s been mine forever. You just never noticed it because you don’t water anything.”

Gaslighting but make it horticultural.

I’ve rearranged shelves so many times that even I don’t know what’s new or old anymore. Every corner of the house looks like a tiny tropical ecosystem. Humidity domes, moss poles, LECA jars, seedling trays… it’s giving “science lab,” but sexy.

And financially? Let’s just say I’ve given myself a medium-to-severe crisis. Every time a package ships, my bank account sends me a jump-scare text like, “Are we… good? Are we safe? Should we call someone?”

Meanwhile, I’m over here like, "It’s an INVESTMENT.

”Plants bring joy.

”They basically pay for themselves.” (They absolutely do not.)

Anyway — welcome to my plant-hoarder era. It’s cozy. It’s chaotic. It’s financially irresponsible. And honestly? I regret nothing.

Pictures of my newly deflasked tissue cultures. Check out my LINK to deflasking TCs, and the LINK to make this cute prop box.